Apparently not enough to crack station defenses, thank Mary. But the Peacemaker operating systems would be considerably less complex. Bad news for us since he can manage with the gear he brought with him.
“Well, we can’t just sit here, licking our wounds and waiting for them to slaughter us.” Jael restrained the urge to punch something. “What now?”
Tam stopped and faced the group, his expression somber. “This idea might not save us . . . but it offers vengeance. It’s not easy to acknowledge the potential for failure or that death may be inevitable. I think we’ve reached that point. Yet there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that even if we lose, so do they.”
Dred smiled. “You have my complete attention.”
35
Karma Is a Stroppy Bitch
Katur made it clear that there were minute design flaws in Perdition, conduits that could be targeted to make a force field fail before the system backup kicked in. And in some cases, the backup had been stripped for parts, like the force field down below. There was no way to be sure, however, unless you shorted things out. Tam was ready to move.
After considering for a few seconds, Dred nodded. “Do it.”
The others scattered shortly thereafter, each with business regarding the protection of Queensland, but she couldn’t bring herself to get moving just yet. Calypso stuck around, too, her strong features set in a pensive expression.
“Tough call,” the other woman said.
Dred nodded. While she saw the benefits, it didn’t mean she liked acknowledging that the retributive strike would only happen after the mercs wiped them all out. “I haven’t ceded the battle yet. It’s a fail-safe, that’s all.”
“That’s the spirit. We’re doing better than I expected. To be honest, I tried to get Martine to run for it a while back.”
Dred hadn’t known that, but she wasn’t surprised. “I’m glad you stuck around.”
“I’m a sucker for lost causes. That’s half of why I ended up in here.”
Though she’d learned Martine’s story, Calypso had dozed off before they started talking seriously about LBP—Life Before Perdition. “Oh?”
Calypso propped herself against the far wall. “Do you know anything about the Human Initiative?”
After a moment of poking around the cobwebby corners of her brain, Dred came up with, “Some kind of propaganda campaign? I don’t remember much about it.”
“Conglomerate brainwashing manifesto—about how we needed to complete our diaspora and get out there, populate the universe with lots and lots of humans. So they started a drive toward colonization. There were incentives and—”
“I’m with you,” she said. Whatever the hell this was about, it was a welcome distraction from the seemingly hopeless odds in Queensland.
Calypso went on, “When corporations saw there was money to be made, they got involved, offered complete settlement packages based on income. I’m from a desert colony myself. Shit place to develop, but we couldn’t afford a more hospitable climate.”
Dred knew shit about the Human Initiative, but she did understand profit and loss, supply and demand. It didn’t take a genius to work out that the private sector wanted to compete with the Conglomerate. History didn’t support the idea that it was possible to have one governing body in charge that didn’t eventually succumb to internal turmoil, nepotism, and general corruption.
“I’m from a pretty small outpost, too.” That seemed like a safe, neutral reply.
“Things were hardscrabble, but it was a decent life. Until we discovered uranium on our claim.”
“Let me guess, things went to shit after that.” Dred could envision any number of ways that could go wrong.
“Suddenly, the company we bought the property from found errors in our documentation and the deed, along with mineral rights, reverted to them.”
“I’ll just bet,” Dred snorted.
“We didn’t yield,” Calypso said quietly. “That land was ours, and we fought to the last. I killed so many men over that rocky patch of ground. The struggle honed me and made me strong, and when we lost, when I was the only one left hiding in the hills, half-starved and wild with grief? They sent me here.”
“Damn.” Inadequate response, but she had nothing else.
“I told myself then, I’d never sign on for another lost cause. I’d never fight to the last. From that point forward, I’d only look out for myself.”
Ah. She got it then. “You think that’s what we’re doing here?”
“I hope not. I wouldn’t have your job on a bet, but the others see something in you. So don’t make me sorry I stuck around.”
“I’ll try not to,” she said softly.
But Calypso was already gone.
* * *
TAM tapped his foot at the delay; he had a job to do. He frowned at Martine, but she wore a stubborn-as-hell expression that said she wouldn’t budge until he heard her out.
“I can help,” she said.
“There’s more likelihood we’ll be caught. I can do this on my own.”
“You can. But I won’t let you.” She caught Tam’s shoulder and dragged him close for a kiss that stole his breath.
He didn’t like being pushed outside the bedroom, but by the time she let him go, he was ready to make an exception. “You’re a distraction.”
“I’m your backup. And I know a thing or two about security systems and engines.”
“Of course you do. Hurry up then.”
Only the fact that she didn’t gloat let him accept the situation with equanimity. Instead of making for the Peacemaker units as previously discussed, he cut a path directly for the transport bay. A few times, Tam heard the sound of combat, but he circled it, heart pounding in his ears. There would never be a more critical mission.
“Sounds like Silence is killing some of Mungo’s rotters.”
“Good,” he muttered.
“This should be fun.”
She’s got an odd sense of what’s entertaining.
For him, it was pure adrenaline, mingled with visceral terror. He’d undertaken missions like this one before, where he never relaxed until the job was done. They had no rifles, no armor. This was a quick in and out. If they were discovered, they died, so he led Martine at a dead run. She was fit, so she didn’t flag or fall behind, and she was lighter on her feet than she had been in the beginning. Not that she was ever loud or clumsy.